


like starlight, like lifetimes

by stellas (cursedgold)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, goddess tower mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22021084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cursedgold/pseuds/stellas
Summary: There’s an inexplicable warmth to the room even with the chilly weather outside. Somehow, they’re all glowing. The Golden Deer are all shining so brightly tonight, stuffing themselves with the mix of what looks like an Almyran twist on Fódlan staples and dancing to absolutely nothing but the laughter of their classmates in the background. Is this what youth looks like?(or; the golden deer get what they want, and what they want is a celebration.)
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	like starlight, like lifetimes

When the whole of the Golden Deer house approaches her like this, Byleth knows better than to let her guard down. To be fair, they’re almost always up to no good, but that look on Hilda’s face… It never feels right when it’s her turn to do the scheming because when she’s the mastermind behind their plans, the whole house wants something that they  _ will _ get, by hook or by crook. 

“Professor,” she calls, a saccharine smile gracing her lips. Is it too late to walk away? Perhaps there is something Cyril needs help with. “Don’t you think Lysithea did an amazing job at the White Heron Cup? I mean, she won! I think we should have a celebration as a house!”

With Hilda, it’s hard to tell where the conversation is going exactly. It’s one of her many charms, and one of the many reasons to watch your words around her when she clearly wants a favour from you. Troublesome, but charming nonetheless. “Are you requesting permission to celebrate as a class?”

“No, silly! We want you to join us!” 

Lysithea butts in cheerfully, as if what they want is so blatantly obvious. “How could we celebrate without you there, professor? You  _ were _ the one who taught me so many new dance moves.”

“Professor, it is simply unfair that Lysithea had the opportunity to dance with you. Might I suggest joining us in our celebration to make it up to the rest of us?” 

Really, Byleth adores them, but nothing that they’re saying helps to alleviate any of her worries. There has to be a catch somewhere, but it’s hard to figure it out when they’re all beating around the bush like this. “Lorenz, is there not a ball next week where we will be doing  _ a lot  _ of dancing?”

Lorenz sputters, but Claude cuts in immediately in an attempt to save them from more missteps. “Teach, what we mean is that we want to celebrate, just us Golden Deer. We’ll plan the party, and you just have to show up. What do you say?” He offers his hand to her as if it was some formal business agreement that they’re discussing. 

Byleth swears that she wasn’t hoping that Claude wouldn’t be the one to ask her personally, it’s just that she knows herself more than anything. She knows she can be more lenient with him sometimes, and that it may be harder to reject him for anything. This, of course, is in no way a bias; that’s not proper of a professor. 

Byleth thinks she just likes to see him smile, that’s all. Maybe that’s why she always keeps chamomile tea stocked, despite her vague distaste for it. Or why she’s always finding excuses to share a meal with him in the dining hall, even after having a full meal with the faculty after a lesson. As friends, she wants to see a genuine smile from him more often. Is that so weird?

With the way that the students look at her so expectantly, how could Byleth ever deny them of such a simple pleasure? Even if the guards aren’t too happy with students roaming around late at night, a party surely wouldn’t hurt. It’s not like they’re unsupervised anyway- now that would be irresponsible, surely.

She shakes Claude’s hand and the class bursts into cheers, chattering amongst themselves on what they’d want in a celebration. After all that has happened in the year. surely they deserve some rest, and she won’t complain as long as she’s not the one doing the planning. Perhaps they weren’t really scheming, and they just wanted to spend time with the head of their house. Maybe it was wrong of her to assume the worst of her students, but Byleth doesn’t dwell on it. 

Right as she turns to rush off to conduct a swords lesson with the Black Eagle house, Raphael stops her. “Professor, does this mean you’ll help to fund the feast too?” 

Ah,  _ there’s _ the catch. 

* * *

It only takes Marianne’s puppy eyes for Byleth’s resolve to crumble, and suddenly she’s scrambling to check how much of their monthly allowance she can spare. In the span of two hours, she’s gone from staunchly refusing Lorenz’s attempts to sway her to passing Ignatz a pouch of gold.  _ Damn _ those sad eyes, which Hilda probably taught her.

Still, looking at the spread of food laid out in the classroom, she knows that they’ve busted the budget she gave them by a long shot. There are only three possible reasons. One, Claude is a freakishly good cook when under a budget, to the extent that he’s able to work with only half the needed budget. Two, they’ve been pooling money on top of what they got from her. Three, Raphael and Claude have been sneaking food out of the pantry again, which somehow seems the most probable. 

Hopefully, Seteth doesn’t realise if that’s the case. It’s not like she can undo what’s done, or that she cares all that much anyway. 

The classroom is as sparse as ever, but decorations would have been impractical for just a few hours of celebration. Still, everything feels so… homely. There’s an inexplicable warmth to the room even with the chilly weather outside. Somehow, t hey’re all glowing. The Golden Deer are all shining so brightly tonight, stuffing themselves with the mix of what looks like an Almyran twist on Fódlan staples and dancing to absolutely nothing but the laughter of their classmates in the background. Is this what youth looks like?

“I think we could be training, but we all need a break now and then, right Professor?” Leonie says, handing her a glass of something. 

Byleth nods and takes the drink from her, taking a sip from the glass. Heat floods her mouth and burns as it goes down her throat. It’s bitter, sour, and most definitely not something the students should be having at all. “Is that alcohol?” she asks, scanning the room for a bottle. 

There isn’t one, but Leonie’s silence says it all. She looks away from Byleth, busying herself with pushing potatoes around on the nearest plate. Of course, Byleth walks over to the table of food and looks underneath it, and lo and behold, there are bottles of booze and flasks of alcohol tucked away. The party itself looks so terribly inconspicuous from the outside that she can’t even be mad, considering that they wouldn’t even be caught if not for Leonie offering her a drink. 

Byleth chuckles and takes another sip of the probably-beer, deciding that there's no point in scolding them for it. Instead, she watches Lorenz try to twirl Marianne without much success. Marianne sputters whenever Lorenz tries to do anything at all, but it’s not like she’s a bad dancer. It’s just her lack of confidence, but whether it’s her lack of confidence in herself or Lorenz is another matter altogether. 

It doesn’t feel like a year has passed. On the contrary, time bends itself in miraculous ways. The passing year feels like days flitting past her- like she’s chasing after time itself as it pulls a disappearing act before her eyes. It doesn’t feel like a year has passed simply because of how much changed in a short amount of time, and it somehow feels like both days and decades have passed. It feels like she’s known her students for lifetimes beyond her memory, as if she knows everything and nothing about them. 

Now, where time slows down to a snail’s crawl, everything feels so peaceful. The evening passes easily as the students entangle her in conversation. Only Hilda’s poked fun at how her face flushes when drinking, but it’s enough to make Byleth swap her booze for water towards the end of the celebration. The students finally start cleaning up the classroom well after the sun sets, and bid her goodnight as they stream out. 

The silence of the empty classroom is greatly appreciated, as the wind whispers secrets only known to the trees and grass, a song that she can only wish to understand. Byleth sighs as she sits on the floor cross-legged, staring straight at the board. The celebration reminds her too much of her days as a mercenary. Even with most of her memories lost to the fog, one thing she can clearly remember is Jeralt drinking with the rest after a successful mission, making quick friends with everyone else at the tavern. She’s not sure when she started stealing sips from Jeralt’s glass, or when he started ordering for her, but the memory is otherwise intact, preserved, cherished. 

A hand rests on her shoulder lightly, and a glass of water is shoved into her face. “I thought you’d still be here, Teach,” Claude whispers into her ear. 

Usually, she would gripe about the lack of personal space, but it’s a little hard to be angry at Claude right now. Instead, she takes the cup of water from it, inspecting it carefully before taking a sip. Claude huffs indignantly, probably offended by the insinuation that he would even poison his own professor, but he doesn’t mention it if he was. Instead, he settles down next to her, resting his head in his palm while staring at her.

They stay like that for a while before Claude eventually ends up looking away, chuckling to himself. He’s arguably the hardest person to read, considering that he’s still scheming when he’s smiling. The cogs in his head just never stop spinning, but it’s impossible to even predict what he’s thinking. 

“Hey, Teach,” he says, “I know it’s a bit too early to be asking, but have you heard of the legend of the Goddess Tower?” 

Byleth hums and knocks back the rest of the glass. It’s not alcohol, but any drink will do for a boost of liquid courage. The implication of that question is clear as day, but she isn’t sure if she wants to handle it now. Or ever. “I heard about it from the gatekeeper, why do you ask?”

“I wanted to ask you… Would you like to go to the Goddess Tower with me to make a wish?” He shifts uncomfortably, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as he keeps his gaze firmly on the board instead of her. The light from the oil lamp casts an almost ethereal glow on his face, and she’s not all that sure when he became so pretty. The bit of stubble on his chin is somehow more obvious now than ever, and she kind of wants to just run her thumb over it to see what it feels like. 

Oh, a professor really shouldn’t be doing this. There are so many reasons to refuse him, but all she can think about is seeing that goddamn smile, which will really be the death of her one day. It’s not like his motives are all that clear in the first place. With Claude, nothing is clear-cut; all she can do is give him her full trust and hope he doesn’t break it. 

And really, if there’s anyone she wants to trust in this whole world, it’s him. It’s always him.

Byleth nods slowly as Claude prattles on, “I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to. I’m sure others have asked you, and I get if you’ve promised someone else. But- Wait, do you mean it? Are you sure?”   
  
She nods again, and his face lights up. Somehow, he really does feel like a star in his own right, and he’ll go far. Even if his future doesn’t have a place for her, it’s nice enough to have this moment with him. 

He stands up and offers her his hand. “We should head back to our rooms, Teach. Let me walk you back,” he says, trying his best to hide the foolish grin on his face. His smile is far too beautiful for his own good. Even if he’s hard to read him sometimes, it’s easier to tell his genuine smile from his fake one, and when the corners of his eyes wrinkle like that, he means it, which also means she’s utterly screwed. 

Still, seeing that smile is worth it, and she takes his hand. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a quick writing exercise to get me out of my funk but life had other plans for me? i just wanted to write some self-indulgent fluff 😔 got fe3h on black friday and somehow I've clocked 115 hours and finished VW/almost finished AM?? 
> 
> socials: [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/kamichuus) | [tumblr](https://cheriiots.tumblr.com/)


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